Stars
by emimprov
Summary: Edgeworth's first loss prompts serious introspection. One shot.


**Stars**

_You know your place in the sky_

_You hold your course and your aim_

_And each in your season returns and returns_

_And is always the same_

_And if you fall as Lucifer fell, you fall in flame…_

-"Stars," Les Miserables

The judge rapped his gavel once, twice, three times.

"This court finds the defendant Maya Fey…not guilty!"

The judge's words met with the usual chatter from the crowd, though this time the voices were not dark and contemplative, they were jubilant and cheerful. This was the first time that a "not guilty" verdict had been passed so shortly after another, and it seemed to be cause for celebration. It was something different, anyhow, and the people were glad for it. In a bizarre show of gaiety, multi-colored confetti rained down on the defendant's chair. The defendant shook the colored pieces of tissue paper from silky black hair, turning to hug the taller man behind her…her defense attorney.

"You did it again, Nick! I'm…I'm so happy! I can't believe it!"

Edgeworth stood stock still behind the bench, unable to move at first. His witness was led away in handcuffs, pleading with the officers, pleading with Edgeworth.

"Mr. Procurator…Mr. Edgeworth! I do humbly pleadify you to do something about these fine police officers…I may have done wrong, but I am sure it is nothing that cannot be rectimated in the end…sir?" Edgeworth was not listening to the inane babbling of Redd White. He was now staring at the papers in front of him. The papers he had brought which he was sure would win this trial…what good were they now? What good was _anything_ now?

His perfect record had been destroyed.

Redd White's voice faded, and when Edgeworth looked up again, he met the dark eyes of that man. No…only the color of his eyes was dark. Not the expression. The look on his face was mixed – pained, yet relieved. He was hugging Maya to him, obviously surprised and overjoyed at his victory.

Edgeworth pulled out his folder, slamming it onto the desk and hastily piling his papers inside. It was all too much. He needed to get out of here before – dammit. He felt the sharp sting of tears at the corners of his eyes, and he quickly stood up, tucking the folder and his belongings under his arm. Without another glance at anyone in the court room, he was for the doors.

"Edgeworth—"

Phoenix Wright's voice called after him, but he did not stop. He burst through the courthouse doors and down the steps, halting only when he reached his car. He fumbled for his keys and clumsily opened the driver's door, silently thankful that he had parked at the far end of the lot today. He tossed his folder onto the seat next to him, falling into his place behind the wheel limply. He propped his elbows against the wheel and held his face with his hands.

_No, no, no, this is no time for weakness. Keep it together, Miles._

Momentarily resolved, he started the car. It did not take him long to get out of the parking lot, as most everyone else was still inside rejoicing over the overcome of the trial. That ridiculous trial…and his downfall. It was absolutely unthinkable. His fingers gripped the wheel roughly, and he jerkily turned the car around at the next intersection, deciding against returning home for the moment.

The tears had not fallen, but had instead been kept back by the seething rage that now seemed to course through his body. Wright…he had been bested by that complete buffoon, in a court of law no less. There had to be some way to explain it, some way to turn it all around in his mind…

Edgeworth was seeing, as he had begun to see more than halfway through that trial, that there was no way to reconcile anything.

He was going to have to admit that he had been beaten. Wright – yes, Phoenix Wright – had turned the situation around and had proved his and Maya's innocence beyond a shadow of a doubt. Redd White was clearly, lucidly guilty. The judge knew this. The court knew this. The only person who had not yet accepted it was Edgeworth himself.

Landscape flashed by him, a blur to match his muddled mind. He was usually so calm and collected. Why now? Why did his first loss have to come at the hands of…of HIM?

And the worst part about it was the fact that he knew Wright would have been humble about it to his face. He knew he would have been pained if he had known the turmoil that his rival was going through. That was probably why he wanted to talk to him after the trial. …Or was it?

There was nothing worse than false modesty, and Edgeworth had a feeling that Wright was about as fake as that attorney's badge he loved to flaunt.

At this point, Edgeworth allowed his thoughts to drift. He drove. He did not know where he was going, exactly, but he was not surprised when his wandering brought him to a familiar site – a cliff he had played near in his childhood, when his father was still alive. It brought back happy memories, though they were now colored with red – pain at having lost his father, and now the more acute pain from this new development. Grass fluttered in the evening wind, and the sharp precipice cut into the black sky – the stars peered out from their velvet background, winking at him in turn. He parked his car a few hundred yards from the base of the cliff, getting out and locking it as he breathed in the clean mountain air. He tucked his keys into his pocket and began to climb, only stopping when he reached the top overlooking the violent ocean below.

The wind ruffled his silver hair as he stood near the edge. He looked down, smiling. The ocean looked up at him, almost inviting. In spite of himself, he laughed at the melodrama of the situation.

"You'd eat up that headline, wouldn't you, Wright? 'Prosecutor Commits Suicide After First Loss to Rookie Attorney.' I won't give you the satisfaction." He turned his back on the sea.

"I am only doing what a prosecutor is supposed to do," he muttered angrily to himself. "No more, no less. I need not delude myself." He sat down then, willing himself to concentrate on anything but the trial for as long as he could, until he could not stand it any longer, and looked up.

He sat that way for quite some time, letting the day's events flow through his mind, sifting through unnecessary details and analyzing his actions. Thinking so hard made him dizzy, but the sky calmed him. He was slowly coming out of this electrical shock of emotion that had paralyzed him after the judge's verdict. It was relieving to have his self-control back, his same cool demeanor.

The stars were beautiful tonight. They haunted him, but they gave him hope all the same. If they could still shine after so many years, after so many countless eternities, why couldn't he? A cloud passed over them, hiding them from view for a few short seconds – as always, though, the stars were ever the brighter when they reappeared.

Life surged through him, then, as if he had touched a hot wire.

He would be unwavering in his resolve. This would not set him back like some storybook villain. He was no villain, anyway…he was a prosecutor. He had as much of a reason to accuse as Wright did to defend.

And he would do more than Wright – that fool only sought the truth. You had to make truth, own it. You couldn't let it slip through your fingers like so many grains of sand – this he knew all too well. It was precious, and it could make or break you and your case. He would never again take it for granted.

He would meet his "friend" in court yet again…and next time, Wright would be the one sulking in defeat.

He swore by the stars.


End file.
